


control; v(2)

by arcadenemesis



Series: control; see (me) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Porn, Blow Jobs, Clone Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreak, M/M, Pining, Project Kuron, Rimming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 09:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16951074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadenemesis/pseuds/arcadenemesis
Summary: “But both of you…” Keith whispers, eyes dropping to his throat for a moment. “I can’t help it. I love him and so I love you too.”“Y-you…?”Keith meets his eyes again, scared but determined.“I love you,” he repeats. “I want you. If you'll have me. If you'll have both of us.”Ryou thinks he left his heart in the desert on an alien planet light years away from Earth. But after the war is over, he finds it again, cradled between two pairs of hands.





	control; v(2)

**Author's Note:**

> A part two to Ryou's story, as requested.

To have memories of a lifetime on Earth, before his feet have ever touched the planet’s surface, is ultimately the most jarring aspect of Ryou’s life.

What is the meaning of his life, he wonders. How does one define their reality when it’s built off the back of another? When everything is just a lie of artificial biology? By all accounts, he is only newborn. Months old. But with decades of experiences and knowledge that don’t truly belong to him sealed within. A mere child on a cellular level, but physically and psychologically well into his twenties. Dwelling on the concept makes his head hurt, and reconciling how he feels to the cold, hard facts of his existence is still something he struggles with every day.

Keith is Ryou's beacon, even after he swaps Black for Red. Whenever his doubts creep in, his voice is there, without fail, to ease him through his weaker moments. The memory of his devastation when he had woken to the news that Ryou would be travelling apart from him still wrings something both guilty and pleasantly warm in his chest. Knowing he would be missed, knowing _he_ would miss him, helps heal just a little of his heartbreak. And it might just be patchwork, but Ryou has to believe he's getting better, that he might actually be moving on.

Shiro is godsend too. So easily he could have made him the enemy, and yet he has always been his biggest advocate. From the first moment they had stared at each other, an imperfect mirror of the other, Ryou had had been terrified, but oddly assured of his fate. Hearing about the facility after his shackles were unchained, about Haggar and Keith’s desperate fight to get him back, Ryou now understands a little better. He knows Shiro carries a illogical burden of responsibility, because he feels it too. It isn't his fault he exists… but nor is it Shiro’s. Their unorthodox connection means Shiro’s every choice, every motivation, is plainly clear to him at all times. And it feels self serving, but there's no one he trusts more. Save for Keith.

Lance has been the wildcard. One that Ryou thought he would never win over. Theirs had been a relationship that started with one sided mistrust and fear. His suspicion had been only natural. Ryou couldn't begrudge him the cold shoulder he had served him, particularly after hearing his side of the clone ordeal.

“I was supposed to be Shiro's right hand man,” Lance tells him in the silence of the cockpit, late one night. “And I had no idea. He even tried to reach out and I just… didn't get it.”  
It's still clearly a sore point for him.

“It’s not your fault,” Ryou tries to soothe. He thinks it might fall flat, but after a moment, Lance looks up to offer him a smile that makes his heart thud. Free of all the bravado, it looks a little muted, a little sad, but it's open and genuine and for him. Finally for him.

“I can't change what happened,” Lance says quietly. “But I can use it to be a better deputy for Keith. A better Paladin overall.”

Ryou counts his lucky stars that Lance had ever warmed to him at all, let alone extended the hospitality of Red to him. A place for him to retreat and learn who he truly is. Ryou isn't sure he will ever stop needing Keith and Shiro in his life, but having another pillar of support - without the complexity of love not quite unrequited, but not returned in the way he wished so desperately for - is invaluable. Ryou has learned to guard his heart against his own will, but confesses his gratitude to him all the same, before they part to sleep.

* * *

Earth is home and alien all at once. The atmosphere sears his young lungs, the sun burns into his untouched skin. His head swims when he takes his first step onto solid ground, the moment so surreal that he forgets how they even got here in the first place. The Garrison feels the furthest thing from home, and though he expects it, the absence of trust from people he remembers as classmates and colleagues stings all over again. It almost feels like he's underwater, like the edges of his vision go fuzzy with the chaos around him. The world moves fast and endless around while he just tries to catch his breath, lost in something he once held familiar. He wants to help, but it's all he can do to just stay out of the way as Shiro and Keith lead the charge to the protection of their planet, and a new age of peace with their galactic allies.

When the dust settles, and Voltron finally has a moment to rest, Ryou finds, unexpectedly, that their attention turns to him.

“Come with us,” Shiro says, hand firmly in Keith’s.  
“It’s been far too long.”

But Ryou doesn't know if he can call home _his_ any more, and the thought of facing rejection from his own family - if he is even allowed to think of them that - is a pain too deep to consider bearing. However, Shiro is the one who is changed, not him, and for a frightful moment he wonders whether they would accidentally push aside the original for him. Somehow, that’s worse.

In his hesitation, he doesn't realise Keith has moved until there’s a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back up from the floor. A hand, warm from being held, slides gently into his own and squeezes softly in an attempt to comfort. Even in their time apart, the love he has for him hasn't gone anywhere, and it's all too obvious when his heart stutters in his chest. It's dangerous, being this close to him, knowing he could just lean in and brush lips to his forehead, his cheek, his…

He glances over Keith’s shoulder to Shiro, but if he knows his thoughts, he doesn't betray them, offering a warm smile.

“Ryou,” Keith says softly, bringing him back. “I know you're scared. You don't have to do this. But if you want to, you'll have us.”

It's all he's ever wanted since the moment he first woke up in his arms, but he won't dare say that.

* * *

It passes by in blur. Ryou doesn't remember the flight in Garrison-issue craft, or the train out to the seaside, but he does remember the vivid look of confusion - and fear - on his grandmother's face. He flees. Keith’s voice behind him is swept away by the wind and the ground pounds beneath his feet. But he doesn't run without direction, because he knows this place like the back of his hand, even if it doesn't know him. He pays no heed to the path, and the blur of motion and tears half blinds him to his surroundings. Yet he finds himself at a familiar tree by the town's edge where he sinks down with a heaving chest and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes hard enough to see stars. Shiro used to come here and climb the branches and gaze over the ocean in the distance when he was a boy. Not him, though. Never him.

Ryou doesn't know how long he sits there. It's long enough for the earth to go quiet around him and for dusk to stretch languid over the town. Long enough for twenty-seven missed calls, all from the same number.

Keith looks torn between wanting to murder him and wanting to comfort him when he finds his way back to the inn, but he settles for rushing at him with a violent embrace that starts with misty eyes and ends fingers combing gently through his hair.

“Don't scare me like that again,” Keith growls. “How can I be there for you if you keep running away?”  
And then, the killer blow: “Don't think I'm going to stop chasing after you one day.”

It rends his heart in two, and when Shiro silently places a hand on his shoulder with a knowing look, Ryou buries his face into Keith's hair to hide, but the grip around his his waist tightens when his lungs quietly stutter.

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't’ve. I just—”  
The stricken look on Keith's face when he pulls away is too much to bear, so he looks away from them both and presses crescents into his palms when he mutters, “I shouldn't have come. Baa-chan didn't need this. She would have been happy just knowing Takashi was alive, but this? Me? It was selfish. I was selfish.”

“That's not true,” Shiro says firmly. “Our family deserves to know the truth of everything. And you are part of that truth.”

“She could have lived the rest of her life in peace!” he shoots back bitterly. “Everyone else could have been told later.”  
The tension in his jaw when he clenches his teeth seeps into his neck like venom in his veins.  
“Instead, I've just brought down the weight of the universe on an old, frail woman's shoulders. I _know_ you must have thought the same as me. You always do.”

And Ryou knows he's struck a nerve, because finally, for the first time in his life, Shiro looks furious.  
“Ryou!”

“It's my fault,” Keith interrupts, soft and hurt. It cuts through the hostility in an instant and blows it away like smoke. “I'm the one who insisted on this. I convinced Shiro… I told him my family suffered through enough secrets that I didn't want the same to happen to yours. I thought… I thought it was the right thing. I…”

“Keith…”

Ryou feels horror flood through him as Shiro softens and turns to him to cup his jaw tenderly, with fingertips ghosting over the mark scored into his cheek. It shoots equal doses of guilt and jealousy through his veins, and he takes an aborted step toward them before he thinks better of it.

“Keith,” he says, echoing Shiro weakly.  
“I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry.”

“No, you're right,” Keith says, shaking his head. And, oh God, Ryou thinks he can see tears shining in his eyes. He can't be the one to make him cry. “I shouldn't have interfered. This isn't my family. I had no right.”

“Hush,” Shiro scolds softly, pulling him into his arms. It makes Ryou want to fall to his knees before them both.  
“You are my family,” he says with tenderness that makes Ryou feel like an intruder. He knows just how heartfelt the words are, because that truth fills his chest with something molten every time he draws breath. It's… it's not fair. He doesn't want to be on the outside.  
“They're yours too.”

Keith glances over to him where his cheek is pressed to Shiro's chest, and suddenly it strikes Ryou that he's looking for confirmation. That he's asking _him_ if he accepts him as such too. So he nods, hoping it seems more earnest than dumbstruck.

“It was the right call,” Shiro continues, low and kind. “Everyone deserves the truth.”

But Ryou thinks of confessions spoken on a desert planet and the gentle rejection that followed, and he can't help but feel that some truths are better left unsaid.

* * *

The static between the three of them still crackles in the air at dinner, taken late in the inn's tiny restaurant just before closing. Ryou settles the bill in secret when he pretends to go to the bathroom and quietly slips away when the two of them are too busy wrapped up in each other. The world ripples the way it did at the Garrison, disorientating him and tipping his axis. Ryou can only be thankful his room lies across the carpark from theirs. He still needs his separation. The wound is still fresh, even after all his time in Red.

The next day is a little easier. Obaa-chan only hesitates a moment before she pats his hand when he lays it on the arm of her wheelchair to ask if she would like tea. He doesn't feel eyes on his back like hawks when he moves around the room. And his little cousins, no longer the babies he remembers from photographs, call him by the name Shiro gave him when they drag him down to play. He catches Keith's eye when young Akira is half way through a detailed explanation of his wooden spaceship, and the smile he send him ties Ryou's stomach in knots. Then Shiro breaks the spell by introducing him to his aunt, and Keith's attention returns back to their conversation. It burrows into the hollow left in Ryou's chest and forces it open a little wider.

“Today was better, right?” Keith asks softly while they walk. He tries to take his hand, but Ryou jumps back in shock, leaving Keith wide-eyed with that same hurt look from yesterday. Shiro drives the stake further by picking it up where Ryou left him hanging.

“Sorry,” he says, swallowing. “You surprised me is all.”  
He buries his hands into his pockets to fight off the sudden chill in his fingers.  
“Today was better,” he repeats softly.  
Just not in all ways.

On the third morning, Ryou finds them trading kisses against the wall before breakfast, and it takes him clearing his throat for them to spring apart. They both look apologetic, and somehow that's worse, because he now he feels vividly aware of how they have been making the effort to tiptoe around him.

Shiro goes on without them this time, to visit their grandfather's grave alone. It's something Ryou wants to do by himself later, so he doesn't speak when Keith checks one last time that Shiro doesn't want company.

“The weather's perfect,” Shiro smiles, brushing his cheek.  
“You and Ryou should make the most of it.”

It's a horrible idea, it turns out. Keith is born of the desert, and the ocean brings out a soft wonder in him that Ryou is sure he's not even aware of. With salt-swept hair pulled back in a ponytail, gaudy sunglasses and bare feet in the sand, he's the picture of everything Ryou never thought to dream of.

Ryou is helpless to follow him when he rolls up his pants legs to run into the surf, and it's the most carefree he's seen him since he pulled him from his broken ship. It reminds Ryou of hoverbike races, and other moments they never shared. Moments treasured and desperately held tight nonetheless. Only Keith is older now. Only Keith is more beautiful now.

With sunglasses perched in his hair, the light off the water's surface dapples Keith's skin in warm sunshine, casting his eyes the colour of the ocean. And he's ethereal, but Ryou already knew that. It's just more painfully obvious now. He laughs, and the sound makes its home in his bones, settling deep and uncomfortably warm. For a moment, it feels real. Just them, and the world far behind them. Ryou moves to him like a man hypnotised, and his eyes settle on the expanse of collarbone exposed in the neck of his shirt when Keith bends forward to dip his hands in the water. He suspects nothing, so when Keith flashes him a grin, then throws his hands to send a soaking spray at him, Ryou splutters indignantly.

“You—!”

But Keith isn't sticking around for his punishment, taking off down the beach. It only takes a second for Ryou to recover, but then he's in pursuit, and Keith doesn't have a chance in hell of escaping. He laughs when Ryou's arms close around his waist, kicking his legs when he lifts him in the air.

“You little shit!” but Ryou is laughing too.  
“I should throw you in for that.”

“Mercy, mercy!” Keith wheezes, giving a token struggle against his grip when his feet touch the ground again.

Ryou doesn't relent though, turning him around to throw him over his shoulder. Keith scrambles to catch his glasses as they fall, then tries to wriggle out of Ryou's grip when he starts wading through the water.

“Please sir, I can't swim!”

Ryou grins, adjusting him with a jolt of his shoulder, a hand secure on his back and an arm behind his knees.  
“Liar.”

Keith sounds of protest are ruined by his giggles as Ryou walks them further out until he is knee-deep.  
“Ryou— Ryou, no, _please_!” he squeaks when his grip shifts. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Don't throw me in!”

Ryou hums thoughtfully, tipping him dangerously as he rubs his chin for dramatic effect.

“I'll be good! I'll be good!”

Ryou gives an exaggerated sigh.  
“I guess I can trust your word,” he allows, gently lowering him back down to his feet, the bottom of his pants getting wet where they're rolled just above his knee.

“Thank you,” Keith breathes, but it's only a ruse. A cheeky grin crosses his face and he splashes him again.

“Traitor!” Ryou gasps, returning the favour this time.

Keith laughs, but it becomes quickly clear Ryou has the upper hand, and he throws up his arms in a vain attempt to defend himself. He's practically gasping by the time Ryou grabs his hips, and he grips to the collar of his shirt in an attempt to save himself from being lifted again. Salt water sticks his fringe flat to his forehead and mirth lights up his eyes from within as they bump together in the gentle swell of the waves. In spite of the ocean, he still burns warm, and Ryou can feel it through the wet cotton, like an eternal flame between them. His breath comes out in little amused pants, so close Ryou can feel it ghost across his skin, and unconsciously his grip goes gentle at his hips. And his lips, soft and smiling. Oh, to have those lips…

He tastes like the icecream they bought on the pier, sweet and vanilla, and it's the only reason Ryou realises what he's done. He pulls back in shock with a soft smack, and the smile is gone. Keith blinks up to him in doe-eyed surprise, still holding on to his shirt.

Then the panic sets in.  
“I've… I've got to…”  
Ryou wrenches out of his grip and does the only thing he can.

He runs.

* * *

“Lance, I fucked up,” he whispers the second time he reaches voicemail.  
“You said to trust my instincts, and I said that was what I was doing but… but it wasn't and now… Now I've ruined everything and I don't know what to do.”  
It was foolish to think he would pick up. It must be the middle of the night in Cuba.  
“I wish I had just stayed. I wish I… I wish you—”

The receiver cuts him off with a long tone, and Ryou pulls the phone away from his ear to stare blankly at the screen. It's almost flat from the sheer number of missed calls. Shiro has joined the effort by this stage, and Keith has switched to text, desperate for a response.

          _It's not as bad as you think._

_Please come home._

The screen blinks as he stares, and mocks him with a farewell as it powers down.

* * *

Ryou doesn't know when the day vanishes, but it's well after dark when he returns to the inn, sand in his shoes and salt stiff in his clothes. He knows they'll see the light across the carpark when he enters, but the weight of the evening leaves him weary. He knows he'll have to face up to what he's done eventually. After all, Keith had said he would never stop chasing him. He had to believe that was still true.

A crunch underfoot as he steps through the door stops him short. The paper sticks to his boot as he lifts it, and for a moment Ryou considers throwing it straight into the trash. But guilt gnaws in his belly just enough for him to peel it free and unfold the note with shaky hands.

          _No one is upset._

_Keith is worried. Please come over when you're ready._

It's his handwriting, but not quite. A little more scratchy. Not his usual cursive. The ink smudges where fingers have swept over the words as they dried. Ryou has always been right-handed, but he supposes Shiro doesn't quite have the luxury of choice these days. It's an odd detail to focus on, he knows, but it saves him stewing in his discomfort for a moment longer.

Keith is worried.

Keith is worried…

And in the end, he's helpless to that.

Quietly, he folds the note back up and places it on the table by the door. He could use a shower, maybe a meal that isn't liquid amber and burning, but he takes a deep breath and turns around, crossing the car park to the last place on Earth he wants to be right now. His fist hovers in front of the wood for a moment, and he considers just walking away. It wouldn't be honourable though, and… he's already done enough dishonourable things today. Before he can talk himself out of it - again - he knocks softly twice on the door. It's as if the night suddenly goes still around him, and his heart pounds in time with the footfalls he hears from inside, coming closer and closer. He swallows when he hears the clatter of the latch, trying to steel himself, but he still finds himself unprepared for the sight that greets him.

Shiro's face is impassive when the door opens, betraying nothing, but that's not the first thing he sees. Belatedly, he tries to avert his eyes, stunned as to why Shiro would open the door in the middle of the night in only his underwear.

Ryou doesn't know why he blushes. It's not as if it's not something he sees every day in the mirror. Only… actually it isn't. Another involuntary glance makes the scars more prominent this time. He's a little broader too, not that Ryou is especially lean in the first place. And then of course, there's the hair, the arm…

“Come in,” Shiro says quietly, slicing through his thoughts. He side-steps, and Ryou stumbles forward out of instinct, removing his shoes as Shiro closes the door behind him.  
“He's been fretting all evening trying to reach you. We were concerned something might have happened to you.”

It's all wrong, and it curls in his gut like a self inflicted poison. Something _did_ happen, and he's sure Shiro knows. So why hasn't he tried to put him down yet? Ryou might know Shiro's nature better than most, but there were exceptions.

Keith has always been one of those exceptions.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you right before bed,” he says instead, trying to look anywhere but at Shiro, half out of shame, half out of shock.  
“I should have just messaged.”

“No,” Shiro counters quietly, and there's something about his voice that sets him on edge. “Keith wanted to see you. We've been… talking. Follow me.”

It's almost as if he lacks the ability to disobey, trudging softly after Shiro through room to a door off to the side. Keith rises from the end of the bed when they enter, as if he's been waiting, and the only thing that distracts Ryou from his wide-eyed look is the silk robe tied around him, a scarlet caress against pale flesh.

“Ryou…”

He throws his gaze to the floor, burning with shame. Even now, even after betraying the trust given to him, he can't help but feel the jealous beast stir under his skin at the tease of what isn't his. And he hates himself for it.  
“I'm sorry, Keith,” he rushes out first, wanting this to be over. “What I did was a stupid, heat of the moment thing.”  
Keith steps closer, and he braces.  
“And that's not an excuse, because I should know how to control myself. I shouldn't have—”

He's silenced by plush lips capturing the words trying to tumble from his, fingers pressing firmly into his nape. It takes a beat… two… three… but then his mind plays catch up Ryou pulls away with a gasp.

“Keith!”

Wild eyes land on Shiro, watching with a neutral expression from where he leans against the wall, arms crossed.

“Was that okay?” Keith asks softly, and Ryou's eyes snap back to him, but he's looking at Shiro, a hand still on his neck.

“Mm.”  
Ryou thinks he might be developing whiplash when he looks back to Shiro, seeing him push off the wall.  
“Better than I thought,” he says, and Ryou can hear the admission in his voice.

“I-I don't understand,” Ryou stumbles. “What is happening?”

Keith's eyes flick back up to him, vivid even in the soft light, and he presses a little closer, stealing his breath away.

“I've been thinking a lot since the beach today,” he says as Shiro settles on the bed behind him. “About you, about this whole situation, about us. The three of us.”

Ryou's heart hammers until he can hear it in his ears.

“I don't think there's anyone else like us in the entire universe, and that makes it hard and messy but… I want nothing more than for you both to be happy.”  
Careful fingers trace his cheek and jaw, the touch sending sparks across his skin.  
“You're Shiro too.”  
Ryou freezes, and Keith gently corrects, “I mean, you're Ryou. I know you are. Of course you are. You're your own person. And Takashi… I… I know you're…”  
The stutter makes Ryou slowly come unstuck, the stiffness in his spine starting to ease and the expression on his face evening out.  
“But both of you…” Keith whispers, eyes dropping to his throat for a moment. “I can’t help it. I love him and so I love you too.”

“Y-you…?”

Keith meets his eyes again, scared but determined.  
“I love you,” he repeats. “I want you. If you'll have me. If you'll have both of us.”

“Both?”  
Ryou's gaze flicks over Keith’s shoulder to Shiro, but all he does is give him a reassuring smile. It doesn't make sense.

“Only if you're comfortable, Ryou,” Shiro soothes. “You don't have to stay. We spoke about this for a long time while you were gone. In the end, I just want Keith to be happy.”

“I want you _both_ to be happy,” Keith counters softly.

This time, Ryou doesn't pull away when Keith kisses him. The shock is still there, but he lets himself be taken, pressing back and gripping his hips tightly, chasing a quiet sigh that falls between them. Keith backs him up until something hits the back of his knees and the hands on his shoulders force him down.  
“Sit,” Keith instructs in a quiet voice, and Ryou lands in the chair with a soft thud. “Watch first. Then we'll see where to go from there.”

A tiny voice of righteous morality screams at him, telling him this isn't right, that he should rise, turn around and walk out of this room. That it's not too late. But it is drowned out by the vision before him, and Ryou is enraptured.

Shiro rises to his knees on the mattress when Keith approaches, plucking gently at the tie around his waist. Ryou can't see Keith's face, but Shiro grins up to him as if he's the only thing he sees. And maybe he is. Keith leans down to kiss him as the gown comes loose, and Shiro's fingers slip under the silk to push it from his shoulders to pool blood red at his feet.

Ryou's breath hitches in his throat. Keith is bare beneath, and it's a sight he's unprepared for. Prosthetic fingers brush over porcelain skin, goosebumps chasing their path as a shiver goes down Keith's spine. Ryou traces the lines that define his shoulders and back with starstruck gaze, following the taper of his waist, the dimples at the base of his spine, the swell of his ass. Heat pools in his belly, mingling with the confusion that swirls within him too. His mind is chaos as the scene before him unfolds. Why is he still here? Why can't he move?

Keith looks over his shoulder to him as Shiro presses open mouth kisses to his neck and chest. Ryou squirms under a dark, hooded gaze, but a single word holds him in place.

“Wait.”

Ryou freezes as Shiro grips Keith's hamstring with human fingers, rocking him against him.

“Watch…”

It's almost poetic, the way Keith's body yields when Shiro pulls him up onto the bed and lays him out on his back. It gives Ryou a full view of the plane of his belly, down to where his cock stands to attention. He watches Shiro wrap a hand around him, then lean forward to capture the whine that passes Keith's lips. He tries to rock up into the touch, but Shiro holds him still with a firm hand on his hip.  
“Patience, baby,” Ryou hears him murmur as he trails kisses down his sternum to his navel. Each touch is tender and reverent, even when he releases him to nose at the inside of his thigh.

“Takashi…” Keith whines, and it floods arousal through his veins, almost as if the name spoken were his.

“Going to open you up nice and slow, love,” Shiro tells him, and Keith keens again. “Is that what you want?”

Keith nods frantically, and Ryou grips the arms of his chair. He dare not touch himself, dare not submit to what's laid out before him. Not yet.

“Roll over for me, love,” Shiro urges, and Keith clearly knows what to do, because he pushes himself to his knees and rests on his forearms, bringing him face to face with Ryou.  
“Gonna take real good care of you,” Shiro whispers, and the blissful smile that crosses Keith's face stirs something hot and green under his skin.

“I know, Takashi,” Keith hums as Shiro pulls his hips a little higher, thumbs kneading into the globes of his ass. “You always do. You always…”  
He cuts himself off with a little hitch of breath as Shiro parts his cheeks and leans forward. Ryou can't see, but he can envision every swipe of Shiro's tongue, every swirl and every intrusion from the theatre of expression on Keith's face. He can almost imagine the taste, imagine the feel of the muscle resisting and relenting to him, and it spikes another wave of jealousy through him. Keith drops his head for a moment, moan muffled into the bedspread. But when he lifts it again, his eyes lock on Ryou with purpose that shoots straight to his groin.

“Ryou,” he whispers, a siren call, and he's on his feet the second he reaches for him.  
“Want you… need you…”

Shiro does something that has him closing his eyes and moaning, and Ryou's mouth runs dry. He buries a hand into dark hair, stroking, comforting. Keith meets his gaze again, and Ryou's voice comes out quiet and low.

“I'm here, Keith. Tell me what you need.”

The relief that floods his expression is enough to cement his decision, and Ryou doesn't flinch when Keith reaches up with one hand to paw at his shirt.

“Need…”

The plea in his voice makes a sense of calm settle over him, and suddenly Ryou feels the dynamic switch. He can have the power. He can have control.

“Speak up, kitten.”

Keith's eyes go wide at the command, and the grip at the hem of his shirt tightens for a moment before he scrabbles for his belt instead.  
“I need you to take this off. I need touch you.”

Ryou grins, batting away his hand.  
“Patience, patience,” he urges, and he swears he hears Shiro laugh. He takes his time peeling off his shirt and attending to the buckle of his belt, watching the flush blooming in Keith's cheeks under Shiro's ministrations. He reaches for Ryou again when he steps out of his trousers, and he doesn't push him away when his fingers hook in under the waistband of his boxers and pull. Ryou can already feel himself getting hard at the sight in front of him, and Keith is on the cusp of breathless when he leans forward to drag his lips over his hipbone and take hold of him. He strokes him teasingly once, twice, then nuzzles at the seam of his thigh.

“Yes?” he asks sweetly, and the sight of his cock against his cheek when he looks up to him almost brings Ryou to his end immediately.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “Yeah. Whatever you want.”

Keith already looks half-debauched when he grins up to him, and Ryou isn't entirely sure whether he's still jealous or just impressed by Shiro's thoroughness as continues working his tongue at Keith's rim. The thought is dismissed immediately when Keith kisses the underside of his cock, then runs a wet stripe from root to tip to lap at the precome beading there. He doesn't give any further warning before taking him shallowly into his mouth, and Ryou hisses. On instinct, a hand sinks into Keith's hair when he swirls his tongue and takes him down further, but the sight of Shiro stroking tenderly down his hip to his ribs and back again stops Ryou from gripping hard into the long strands.

Shiro wants to treat him gently, like he is made of glass, and Ryou can see the appeal. Keith is a jewel, precious and rare, and Ryou would love to treat him as such. But more than that, he wants to take. Wants to snatch him up and claim him and examine him piece by piece all for his own.

It's almost as if Keith reads his mind, because he pulls off of him, stroking him again with his hand. He speaks, and the words swim to Ryou like a haze.  
“Don't be polite. I won't break.”  
Something wicked splits across his lips and it sizzles in Ryou’s blood.  
“But that's what you want, right? To make me feel what you do to me? To push me to my limits.”  
He leans in to brush his lips against his length and Ryou shudders.  
“Not like him at all, hm? You're still a little greedy. Still a little cocky. You _want_ to break me, just a bit.”  
Teeth graze at sensitive skin and Ryou hears the moan before he can clamp down on it.  
“I'd let you, if you asked.”

It sparks something wild in him, and his fingers tighten his hair, forcing Keith up a little higher off of his forearm on the bed.  
“Open up then, kitten.”

Keith is surprisingly obedient, mouth popping open to catch the head of his cock on his bottom lip. His tongue presses against him as he slides through the wet warmth, and he makes an appreciative sound when Keith leans forward to take a little more, nose brushing the curls at his base. He pulls back when he feels Keith’s throat constrict with a quiet choke, but then the hand on his hip moves to cover the one in his hair. Ryou swallows hard as Keith slides it to the back of his skull and squeezes.

“You sure?” he asks roughly.

Keith hums around him, shooting electricity straight to his groin. Keith releases his hand to reach around and grip his ass to pull him closer. Ryou takes it as permission. Keith's right: he does want to ruin him. Just a little.

His hold turns possessive, and it's the only warning he gives him before he cants his hips forward and pulls him toward him, fucking into his willing mouth. Keith doesn't miss a single beat, going lax and pliant under him as he thrusts in and out at an increasingly brutal pace. Ryou can see the tears forming at the corners of his eyes, saliva shining on his lips and the strain in his shoulders as he holds himself up with one arm. A quiet pop draws Ryou's attention away, and he looks up to see Shiro has straightened behind Keith, pouring a liberal amount of lube over his human fingers. He feels Keith release him and stretch his arm behind his own back. The action confuses him, but Shiro chuckles, gently taking hold the offered hand. Ryou thinks nothing of it, turning his focus back to Keith and the pleasure curling low in his stomach. It's a terrible oversight, he realises, when suddenly Keith is gripping him again and circles a slick finger around his rim. The arm around him holds him still as Keith sucks loud enough for Ryou to hear. He glances up under wet lashes, and Ryou thinks its criminal that he can look so smug with a mouth full of cock. The finger presses inside of him and Ryou gives a half-groan, half-growl, pulling Keith in so his nose is pressed flush to his skin and he can feel him in his throat.

It's startling, how fast Keith hits the sensitive places inside of him with deadly accuracy. He knows what he likes without being told, and it’s as frustrating as it is arousing. The way he so quickly zeroes in on his pleasure is heaven, but it doesn't feel earnt. Ryou tries not to think how he has mapped it out on Shiro's body already a hundred times before. But then Keith swallows around him and the thought is forgotten as his release unfurls and he comes down his throat.

He relaxes his hold on his head, but Keith stays where he is, determined to take every last drop. It's almost on the side of too much when Ryou feels so sensitive, but he wonders faintly if it would be physically possible to come again from the sight of Keith like this. He looks far too proud of himself when he finally pulls off, thumbing at his bottom lip.

“Good?” he pants breathlessly.

“Fuck, Keith…”  
It might be an understatement. Ryou can see him shaking on his arms though, and so with a quick glance to Shiro, he pushes his shoulder to flip him onto his back, and Shiro tugs on his ankles to slide him further down the bed and give Ryou the space he needs to climb up onto the mattress on his knees.

“Ready for my fingers, baby?” Shiro asks, slipping a pillow under his hips. “Or do you need a second longer?”

Keith shakes his head desperately, planting his feet on the bed either side of Shiro, spreading his knees wider. It leaves him open, vulnerable.  
“Now, Takashi. Please.”

Ryou wonders what he would do if he was made to wait, but he doesn't get to find out. Shiro aquiests immediately with a tender kiss just above his navel. Ryou isn't sure whether he's a little disappointed. But Keith lets out a little gasp beneath him and he decides, this time, it's fine. There's a haze in Keith's eyes and it's intoxicating when he looks up at him.

“Kiss me, Ryou,” he pleads. “Kiss me…”

And maybe Ryou is just as weak, because he lowers himself down to hover over him, one arm braced beside his head where his hair has fanned over the sheets. The other hand slides to cover his throat, applying just enough pressure to feel his adam's apple bob when he swallows.

It's not graceful - kissing upside down rarely is - but Ryou takes pleasure in being in control of it, knowing Keith has to surrender to his will while he holds him down like this. He tries to take back just a little by nipping at his lip, but Ryou growls and Keith relents to let him lick into his mouth, tasting himself on Keith's tongue. He pulls back when Keith’s breath hitches and he moans into the kiss, looking to Shiro where he works him open.

Watching another version of himself with Keith isn't nearly as uncomfortable as he had thought. If anything, it's fascinating. Seeing Shiro touch him is like seeing a future he yearns for. Ryou wonders if, when he glances up and watches him card his fingers through Keith's hair, Shiro sees a past he never had.

His gaze falls to the metallic palm resting on Keith's belly and his mouth goes dry. He ponders whether, if he spread his fingers only little, Shiro's hand could span the width of his waist. Whether with both hands, he could wrap—

A soft, punched out huff of amusement draws his focus back down to Keith.  
“You should kiss him,” he says, grinning up to him, looking far too satisfied.

“H-huh?”

Shiro stills too, and Ryou isn't so sure he misheard.

“I want to see you kiss him.”

Ryou glances up to Shiro, who quickly looks away with an embarrassed little smile. Ryou blinks. He's… actually thinking about it. And if he is, then Ryou doesn't want to be the one to shy away.

“It's just a kiss,” Ryou shrugs.

Shiro laughs quietly, but it isn't unkind.  
“It's a little weird.”

“Oh, it's a _lot_ weird,” Ryou counters with a laugh of his own. “But then again, this whole thing kinda is.”  
He glances down to Keith, seeing his eyes flick between the two of them. He's trying to keep his expression neutral, but there's an eagerness there he struggles to contain. Shiro makes an amused sound.

“Just a kiss, then.”

And despite all his intention to take charge, Ryou is the one who freezes when Shiro makes the first move, hand sliding from between Keith's thighs to brace himself as he leans forward over his body. Ryou stays shock still when the hand he was looking at only a moment ago drifts - quite literally, drifts - to the back of his head, holding him steady as warm breath dances over his lips and—

Ryou takes a moment to react, all mustered bravado vanquished. Shiro's lips are softer, a little fuller than Keith's. He kisses considerately, making no attempt to force his way through despite his obvious advantage. Somehow the tenderness unsettles him more than anything else, more than the thought he might as well be kissing himself. But then there's a hitch of breath beneath both of them. It finally it spurs Ryou into action. He feels Keith shift to reach for his own cock, and Ryou quickly pins both his hands down to stop him. He leans into Shiro to bring the kiss to the edge of something rough, and he hears Keith whimper when he pulls back only to dive back in at the other angle.

“Fuck…”

Shiro pulls back with a laugh, and Ryou can’t help but feel a little smug at the blush dusting under his scar. The feeling increases tenfold when he looks down to Keith, all bitten lips and pupils blown wide. With a grin, Ryou leans down to kiss him chastely.

“Was that to your liking, kitten?”

“Fuck,” Keith breathes again, straining against his hold on his wrists. “I need you. Both of you.”  
But Ryou makes him wait, and the look on Keith's face becomes wrought with desperation.  
“Please,” he begs. “Take care of me. Please, I need…”

“Easy,” Ryou croons, releasing his hands so Shiro can take them and tenderly pull him up. Ryou sidles in closer to nudge his knees under him and guide him with a firm hand on his hip into his lap. He's already hard again, and Keith mewls when his cock slides between the cleft of his ass, feeling the slick of excess lube.  
“Takashi really did open you up nice and good, didn't he?” he grins, grinding slowly against him once.

Any reply Keith has gets lost in his throat when Shiro moves in closer kiss his neck, sandwiching him between the two of them.

“Should I take advantage?”

Both Shiro and Keith pause, and for a jealous second Ryou realises it's a moment of communication that he doesn't understand. But it seems silent consent passes between them. Keith whispers a broken “yes,” and suddenly Ryou is too amped up to care about secret languages and shared thoughts.

“Hold yourself open for me then, kitten.”

Ryou feels his heart pound when Keith rushes to obey, spreading himself so Ryou can take in the sight of all of him. Ryou holds himself still to line up behind him, cockhead brushing against sensitive skin and making Keith gasp. Shiro brushes his messy hair tenderly out of Keith's eyes when Ryou lifts him a little higher onto his knees, as if in comfort. It's unnecessary, Ryou thinks. Shiro might know him best, but in this moment, Ryou feels he knows him a little better.

“Sit,” he instructs, leaving no room for protest.

He feels Keith hold his breath as he sinks down without a moment's hesitation, and it's obscene how easily he takes him. He's warm and wonderful, and Ryou bites down on his shoulder to muffle a curse when he squeezes around him. Keith lets out a strangled yelp, and Shiro leans in to soothe him with kiss. For his part, Ryou runs a gentle hand down the outside of his thigh, but then he grips tight to pull the limb back his past his hip, forcing Keith to arch against him. Lips trail from his shoulder to his ear, and he can see that Shiro has taken the initiative to wrap a hand around himself and Keith, pumping slowly to spread mingling precome over both of them. Ryou turns his attention back to Keith and nips at his lobe.

“Ready for me?” he asks when Keith gasps and Shiro moves to the other side of his neck to kiss over his pulse point.

Keith nods feverishly, reaching back to anchor himself with a hand at Ryou's nape. Then he draws himself up off of Ryou's lap - or at least, as best he can with his knee pulled into a firm grip - until he almost pulls completely free. It catches Ryou off guard when he slams back down, punching a gasp out of both of them, and spotting his vision with stars. Ryou has barely enough sense to take hold of his hips to hold him there, keeping him still, buried deep. When Keith starts to writhe and whine, Ryou’s grip teeters toward bruising.

“I thought you wanted to be taken care of,” he teases, rolling his hips up into him slowly. He hears Keith's breath stick in his throat.  
“It seems a lot more like you want control.”

Shiro tuts quietly when Keith reaches desperately to take over from where he strokes the two of them together. It shoots a little thrill through Ryou to know they're both on the same page, both as focused on the gift between them. Shiro redirects the rogue hand to rest on his shoulder instead, and it almost sounds like a sob that falls from Keith's lips when Ryou bucks up a little harder.

“Give yourself over,” he says in his ear, panting as he drives up into him again.

“Trust, love,” Shiro encourages softly.

Somehow, those are the magic words. He feels the moment Keith surrenders himself to both of them, his body meeting the rhythm set for him instead of fighting out its own beat. His free hand rises on its own accord to rest on Shiro's other shoulder to brace himself, and his head hangs forward to rest against Shiro's in front of him. It's almost as if he finally understands, finally accepts, that they both want to make this about him. For him. Ryou presses firm circles into Keith's hips with his thumbs, leaning back just a little to watch where he disappears into Keith with every cant of his hips, lost in the feeling of him stretched around him, the thought of filling him so perfectly. The sound of his breathing changes from soft huffs to half-cries when Ryou - with no small measure of pride - finally finds that sweet spot inside of him over and over again.

“You feel so good, kitten,” Ryou pants, and Keith gasps on a particularly rough drive, fingers digging into the meat of Shiro's shoulders.  
“I've dreamed about this,” he admits.

“Y-Yeah?” Keith punches out.  
“How… how does this… compare?”

Ryou gives a breathless laugh.  
“I never… _never_ pictured it like this…”

Shiro laughs at that too.  
“Good or bad?” he asks, his voice unfairly steady.

“Good… better…” he says, brushing Keith's away from the side of his neck, leaning forward to slide lips against skin. It pushes Keith forward into Shiro's chest, wedging him tighter between the two of them, with Shiro's hand between them.  
“So much better...”

He can feel the heave of Keith's lungs fighting for space against him as he grazes teeth against the pulse pounding in his neck, thrusting up shallowly.

“Hah— God… I wonder… if… if I could take both of you… at once…”

It almost ends Ryou then and there. Shiro is the one who speaks, and finally his voice is shaky, affected.  
“Maybe next time,” he says, all breathless amusement.

And Keith almost sounds wounded, all coiled muscle and tension between them.

“Let go, baby,” Shiro whispers. “Let go.”

Keith throws his head back when his orgasm hits him, coming with a bitten-off whimper and nails digging into Shiro's flesh. He feels the stutter of Shiro's hips through Keith shortly after, and knows he isn't far behind. A hand goes to Keith's jaw to turn his head to kiss him fiercely and he chases the pleasure building in his core. For a moment, Keith seems wasted in the wake of his end, malleable in Ryou's arms, but then he surprises him by squeezing around him and pushing back to meet his thrusts. It sends a surge of electricity through Ryou’s veins, enough to send him over the edge with a groan muffled by hungry lips, and Keith whimpers again when Ryou's release fills him.

Ryou's heart is pounding, his head swimming as his lungs make their audible protest known, but he holds Keith to him with arms curled firm around his waist. It's as if the universe suddenly stills for a moment, and all that exists is this. And it's enough. More than enough. More than he could have ever dared to hope for.

Shiro is the first to recover, sliding quietly from the sheets and heading for the bathroom. Ryou regains enough cognitive function to carefully unseat Keith, feeling the sticky rush that follows. Keith whines, overwound, but Ryou takes the time to soothe him with soft kisses as he lays him out on the mattress on his back. Keith sighs sweetly beneath him, eyes fluttering closed, and Ryou's chest tightens at the sound. It's arrestingly intimate, and it's how Shiro finds them when he returns with warm washcloths in hand. Ryou glances up to where he pauses by the bed, but Shiro only smiles, and Ryou feels himself relax. He shifts from his spot hovered over Keith's body to kneel at his side, allowing Shiro to take up a place opposite him. Ryou offers a hand for one of the washcloths, eager to show he can be just as attentive, even as they all come down from their collective high. He shifts so he can tend to the mess between Keith's thighs, taking care with hypersensitive skin and muscles that will ache in the morning.

“Was that good, baby?” Shiro murmurs soft to Keith as he gently swipes through sweat and come cooling on his belly.

Keith hums a content reply that draws laughter from both Shiroganes.

“Don't fall asleep before we get you cleaned up,” Shiro teases. Keith pouts but doesn't open his eyes. “I still need to change the sheets.”

“Tomorrow,” Keith grumbles. “Just sleep now.”

Shiro rolls his eyes with a fond smile, taking back both washcloths as he stands.  
“You'll be grumpy with me in the morning,” he warns as he walks to the bathroom.

“Sleep,” Keith repeats a little louder, and Shiro's laugh echoes off the tiles.

Ryou wonders if it's his cue to leave, but a hand wraps around his wrist and tugs, almost bouncing his head on the pillow when he falls back. A sliver of azure peeks out from under heavy lashes at him, coy in the afterglow.

“Are you happy?” Keith whispers, failing to keep the desperation from his voice. Ryou finds he can only nod.  
“Do you want to leave?”

“God, no,” Ryou breathes.

Keith smiles, letting his eyes fall shut again. He shuffles and lifts his head so he can rest it on Ryou's chest.  
“Then stay.”

Shiro returns to slip under the covers beside Keith, and Ryou smiles as he throws an arm over him, pressing the three of them closer together as he shuffles flush to Keith's side. He watches both of them, looking so peaceful when Shiro kisses Keith's cheek, before settling down to sleep too. It should be too warm, huddled together. Too uncomfortable, with the evening still on their skin and lingering in the air. But to Ryou, it's perfect. He feels a proper sense of belonging here, something deeper than simply being loved.

“Stay forever.”

Home, he thinks, as he closes his eyes. Not the town, not Earth. Just this. _This_ is finally home.

“Ryou…”

He's half-stuck in dreams already, he can tell. Where reality bleeds with imagination and it's hard to process all sensory input around him. The world is swimming around him again. He can still smell the faint shampoo in Keith's hair, feel the heat of his skin, even as it drifts in and out of focus.

“Ryou.”

The voice is a little firmer, a little more demanding. Keith's warmth wavers, then disappears entirely beside him, but it's too hard to open his eyes just yet. A repetitive beat floats to him, almost like...

* * *

“Ryou!”

And he frowns when his voice warps… morphs into something different.

“Dude, don't make me send in the wolf.”

That's… that's not Keith. That's not Shiro either. The beat returns, impatient. Knocking… It sounds like knocking.

“And they say _I'm_ a bad morning person,” the voice says to someone else.

_Lance?..._

Ryou finds the will to open his eyes, and it takes a moment for his surroundings to come into focus. A hollowness creeps in as he stares into the soft overhead lighting in the Red Lion. He turns his head to the side, disorientated. But there's no face to greet him, no soft smiling lips to kiss him awake, no body pressed warm to his side. Just an empty bed and an uncomfortable wet patch in the middle of his sheets that paints his last memories in a different, darker shade.

There's a pause on the other side of the door.

“You up?” And the voice closer, as if the face with it is pressed against the metal. “Keith wants us to run drills for discipline or something and _trust me_ , you not want to be in bed when this baby goes.”

Ryou sighs, staring back up at the ceiling.  
“Yeah,” he calls out, voice croaky from sleep. “I'm up. Just… give me five to get dressed.”

“Kosmo's here with breakfast,” Lance replies cheerfully, as if food is supposed to be some kind of incentive. His voice trails as he walks away.  
“I'll buy you some time!”

Ryou stares into the light until it burns white into his vision. Lance could find him all the time in the world if he wanted.

It will never be enough.

* * *

When he musters the will to drag himself into the cockpit, breakfast cold and abandoned, Lance twists to offer him a charming smile.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty,” he chimes, and for the first time since waking it makes his heart feel like it's finally beating again.

“Sorry I slept in,” he mumbles, but Lance waves him off.

“Hey, sleep while you can, right? I would have left you longer if we didn't have this drill.”

Ryou isn't sure if Lance truly realises what he does to him in these little moments, but he holds tight to it nonetheless. At the very least, it distracts him from his lingering shame and the horrible ache in his chest.

Until Keith's face appears on the screen and the smile he aims right at him strikes fatal and true.

_“Hey Ryou,”_ Shiro chimes through the comms as he appears just him, hand resting on his shoulder. _“Team Black Lion isn't the same without you.”_

And it's cruel, so cruel. That the Universe would offer him a taste of the impossible then snatch it away, only dangle it in front of him.

_“We miss you,”_ Keith adds softly, unwittingly driving the knife in a wound that will never close.

“Yeah…”

Ryou lets it bleed until he feels numb.

“I miss you both too.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a notice to anyone who wishes to make eye contact with me ever again: never mention this fic to me. Ever.
> 
> Everyone else can find me at [twitter](https://twitter.com/copilotsheith), [tumblr](https://copilotsheith.tumblr.com) & [pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/copilotsheith)
> 
> Also, sorry.


End file.
